Nicholas could control his amusement no longer. He threw back his head and laughed outright. "There could be some truth in that."
She looked vastly pleased with herself that she had amused him. "What did you think of Aunt Billie?" she asked bluntly.
Nicholas chose his words carefully. "Well, she never actually spoke to me. She just nodded."
"That's 'cause she has to keep her place when company comes. If she behaves, daddy rewards her with an extra pony of bourbon. Mammy Lou says she's the scandal of the family and has a skeleton in her closet."
Nicholas saw the elusive dimples.
"Oh, I don't mean literally-- y'all know what I mean."
"Yes, I know what you mean," he assured her.
"Good! Let's make a pact. If I discover her dark secret, I'll tell you, and if you discover it--"
"I shan't tell you Mandy. I don't repeat gossip."
Her eyes flashed angrily. "Be damned to you then!" She whirled about, saw Mammy Lou had overheard her, and clapped her hand to her mouth.
"Amanda Virginia Jackson, y'all apologize to de genleman, elsewise yo' gonna get a lickin' dat won' let yo' sit fo' a week." Her black face shook in outrage.
"I'm sorry you are damned, sir," she said coolly, her haughty nose in the air.
Nick's eyes twinkled as he realized that to Mammy's ears, she had apologized.
"Now y'all gets yoself up dem stairs t'bed, missy!"
"But I haven't found out what he thinks of Jennifer Joy yet," Mandy protested.
"Dat's easy-- she a lady. Y'all acts like some triflin' white trash. Y'all be de death of ol' Mammy."
Amanda declared with passion, "Mammy Lou, you ruin my whole life! Never run, never shout, never cuss, never frown, never interrupt, never, never, never!"
"I haven't told you what I think of you, yet," Nicholas said lightly.
She turned bright, expectant eyes upon him and said hopefully, "Shocking? Unmanageable?"
"Childish," he said bluntly.
Mammy put and end to the altercation by grabbing Mandy by the scruff of the neck and hauling her off to bed.
Nicholas returned to the house just in time to see Jennifer Joy's crinoline disappear up the staircase. No doubt about it, he lost his heart that very first night.
Before Nicholas Peacock departed the Jackson Plantation he had acquired three hundred acres, fifty of which were already cleared and plowed, ready for planting. Bernard Jackson threw in all the cotton seed he would ever need.
He learned that Jackson did not own the land on top of the escarpment known as Paradise Hill. It was still owned by the county, and he knew that by the time he'd purchased a dozen field hands and plows, mules, shovels, and axes he'd need to clear the land, he would have exhausted his supply of gold. Nicholas however was determined to acquire Paradise Hill and a few hundred acres on the plateau, so the first thing he would do when he got back to Charleston would be mortgage the land he had just purchased from Jackson, to get the money to buy more land.
Amanda had been hanging about outside her father's office and at mention of Paradise Hill, she burst in on the two men and shouted wildly, "Father, you know Paradise Hill is mine! Don't you dare let Mr. Peacock get his hands on it!"
"Amanda Virginia, ah am shocked that you would listen to our business discussion. Go to your room at once, little madam!"
"I will not!" She stamped her foot willfully and gave Nicholas a look that almost burned him with the battle fire in her yes. "If you sell him Paradise, I shall kill myself!"
"Ah'm sure our guest will overlook your dramatics, but he can hardly forgive your appalling lack of manners."
Nicholas gave her one of his amused glances and she swept from the room like a goddess about to mete out some terrible revenge to any poor mortal who dared to cross her path.
Bernard cleared his throat. "Ah must apologize for my daughter's odd behavior, Nicholas. She's been too much indulged ah'm afraid and the result is she is somewhat, er, eccentric."
As Samuel and Nicholas saddled up prior to their leave-taking, Amanda brought sugar lumps for the horse and the mule, and fondled the animals' muzzles.
"Mandy, don't be angry at your father. He can't sell me Paradise Hill because he doesn't own it."
"I know that," she said stubbornly, "it's mine."
"Amanda, I'm being serious. You'd better get used to the idea that I am going to own it."
"Then if it's the last thing I do, I shall get it back from you!" she declared passionately.
"The only way you could do that would be to marry me," he jested.
Her eyes went wide and she suppressed a shudder of revulsion. "Oh, I shall never marry. Didn't anyone tell you that I have sworn a vow never to marry and never to have children?"
"No, it didn't happen to come up. Why would you do such a thing?" he asked, disconcerted at the mysteries that went on in the girl's head.
"Men do unspeakable things to their wives," she murmured and lowered her lashes shyly.
The whole family came out for Nick's leave-taking as if they were seeing off a favorite son. He thanked them for their kind and generous hospitality. "I'm very lucky to have such a family for my nearest neighbors. After three or four years' crops, I hope to build my own plantation house, and then I'll know where to come looking for a wife."
As they watched Nicholas and his servant ride away, Jennifer Joy said, "Well, I do declare. I believe I've had my first proposal."
Amanda Virginia said, "I beg to differ! The gentleman clearly meant me!"
Her family all went off into peals of laughter as if she'd just said the most comical thing. Even her gentle, sweet mother was wiping a tear of laughter from her eye.
Mandy put up her chin, dropped a curtsy and swept from the room. When she was alone, she said aloud, "He did mean me. Purely and Absolutely!"
Chapter Four
Before they visited the slave market, Samuel gave Nicholas invaluable tips about what he wanted in a good field hand. Perhaps more importantly he told him what he did not want.
"Back scars is bad. They shows unwillin' workers-- troublemakers. We wants no ruptures, hemorrhoids, broken fingers or toes. No males who's been cut-- they's house slaves."
Nicholas realized cut meant castrated, and he was appalled at the inhumanity.
In spite of Samuel's vivid description, Nick was not fully prepared for the experience encountered at the Barracoon. They purposely waited until evening. That way, if business had been slow all day, a few hundred dollars could be knocked off the prices. Nicholas was a man who seldom hesitated. He knew what he wanted and walked a direct path to it, but on this late afternoon he purposely observed the other buyers before rushing in to make his selections.
What he saw make his hackles rise. The whole damned business of purchasing human flesh was abhorent and yet he knew he must ruthlessly hold his nose, so to speak, and follow the custom. The slaves sat on benches in front of the sheds, until a prospective buyer showed an interest, then they soon lined up for inspection, almost eager to be chosen over their fellowmen.
Nicholas watched and listened as a well-heeled planter bargained for two field hands. At a gesture from the keeper, the six bucks lined up and stripped naked.
"Nice clean back, no stripes on this one, suh."
"Makes no difference to me. Sugar Plantation. My drivers have to use the whip."
"Yessir, sugarcane sure uses up a lot o' field hands," nodded the keeper in sympathy with the planter's problems.
"That's right. Cotton planters get fifteen good workin' years out of a buck. Sugarcane's different. They last only six, seven years." The planter picked out two slaves and they knelt before him. He examined their privates then he threw his crop across the compound and told each one to go fetch. He seemed satisfied with his choice, and began to bargain in earnest.
Nicholas noted the asking price was fifteen hundred apiece, and he blanched as he thought how much it was going to take to buy a dozen men. However, after a good deal of dickeri
ng, a firm offer of eight hundred apiece was made and accepted, and the two men disappeared inside the office to make out the bills of sale.
Nick looked across the compound to the far side where most of the activity was going on. About two dozen black women were being appraised and examined by half-a-dozen different men. There were no other buyers interested in looking at the males.
Nick asked Samuel which would be his choice. Samuel lost no time in lining up about twenty black men, and walking with Nicholas down the row.
"Too old," he rejected the first man, although he didn't look as old as Samuel himself. He felt the muscles of the second man and nodded. He ran his hand down the back of the third, nodded, then shook his head at the fourth.
"What's wrong with him?"
"Mulatto."
"So?"
"They gits uppity ideas. Thinks they half white."
"A mulatto is half white. I like the looks of him."
Samuel rolled his eyes and moved on. "Too thin in de belly. Might be worms." He said the next two might be all right, 'though they were on the slim side. The next man was burly-chested with fists like hams and thighs that bulged visibly through thin britches. "Trouble,"said Samuel, passing him by.
"Christ, Samuel, I'm picking workers, not a bloody Sunday school class."
The black man grinned at the remark and Samuel was visibly offended.
"What's your name?" Nick asked.
"Brute," said the man, then added, "short for Brutus."
Nicholas smiled.
The slave trader emerged from his office, pleased to see another buyer so late in the day.
"What kin ah do fer you, suh? All prime stock. This one here got good bones fer a sapling."
"No. Too young for me. I have to clear land and put in a crop this spring."
The man nodded his understanding.
"I've already selected half-a-dozen."
"How many you needin' suh?"
"Depends on the price," Nick said. "Reckon you'll give me a good price on a dozen?"
The dealer rubbed his hands together at the thought of such a sale.
Nicholas picked men with good shoulders, arms and flanks, without worrying too much about their ages. In the end he could only afford ten men. He got them for eight thousand, and went into the office.
A stack of blank bills of sale sat on a table, and the dealer made out ten bills exactly the same, except for the name of each slave.
State of South Carolina. Know all men by these presents, that I, Jack Wilkinson of Charleston, for and in consideration of the sum of eight hundred dollars to me in hand paid, at an before the sealing and delivery of these presents by Nicholas Peacock (the receipt thereof I do hereby acknowledge) have bargained and sold, and by these presents do bargain, sell and deliver to the said Nicholas Peacock, a negro slave named Brutus, to have and to hold the said Brutus unto the said Nicholas Peacock, his Executors, Administrators and assigns to his and their only proper use and behoof forever.
"Keep them for me until tomorrow," Nicholas instructed, glad that the distasteful business was done.
As they walked past the black women, Nicholas was disgusted to see the prospective buyers fingering the naked women, displayed for their pleasure. The wenches vied with each other for who would be chosen first. The inviting glances were transferred to him as he approached, and he found he had to look away from such an abomination.
Away from the other females, standing aloof and alone was a tall, slim black girl. The look she gave him repelled rather than attracted. She stood high-headed, cloaked in dignity.
"How much for a female?" Nicholas unexpectedly asked the trader.
"Seven or eight hundred. If she's carryin' a sucker, sometimes a thousand."
"I'll give you five hundred for that one over there. Take it or leave it."
The slave trader hearing the hard finality in his voice, reluctantly agreed, and they returned to the office for her bill of sale.
Nicholas turned to Samuel. "Get the girl, we'll take her with us."
They walked to the little house on Tradd Street. All the way Nicholas chided himself for the money that would have been better spent on mules and equipment, but it was something he had just had to do. After debasing his soul with the business of buying and selling human flesh, he had to have a token salving of his conscience.
He went into the parlor and sat at the desk. He noticed by the bill of sale that the girl's name was Solange. He drew out a blank sheet of paper and dipped the pen in the inkpot.
"I'm going to free you, Solange."
She looked at him blankly.
He worded the paper carefully, clearly, so that it could not be misinterpreted. He dated and signed it and handed it to her with a flourish. When she did not offer to take it from him he repeated, "This paper means you are free, Solange.
"Free for what?" she asked softly.
"Free to do whatever you wish, to go where you wish. You can never be bought and sold again. I paid cash money for you and now I'm freeing you."
"Why yo' do this fo' me?"
He looked at her bleakly. "I'm doing it for myself, Solange, not for you."
"Where will ah go? Where will ah live?" she asked miserably.
For the first time Nicholas realized she was not thrilled with the prospect of being free. He tried to encourage her. "Freedom is the most precious thing on earth, Solange. You will be able to work and earn your own money."
She looked at him with a mute plea in her eyes. "Can ah work fo' yo', Masta Nick?"
Lord God, what do I do now? he wondered. "Yes, Solange, you may work for me," he said with resignation. "You can look after the house and cook our meals while we are here. We are going upriver day after tomorrow, but it will be nice to have a place to come home to."
Nicholas had just drifted off to sleep after midnight, when all of a sudden he opened his eyes. He didn't know what had awakened him. He reached for his pistol and sat up in one swift movement. Then as his eyes became accustomed to the glow from the trimmed wick of the lamp, he knew. Solange stood just inside his bedroom door, totally naked. Her skin shone dark ebony and her limbs were long and sinuous. He stared as the silent moments stretched out. He found his voice. "You don't have to do this Solange."
She did not answer him.
"I freed you so you would not have to submit to a master ever again. I am not your master. You are a free woman."
She ran her tongue over her lips, then slowly she began to stroke her breasts with circular movements that lifted and thrust them forward.
His mouth went very dry as he watched her, hypnotized. Her hands slid down the contours of her body as if she were making love to herself. Then she opened her legs and slipped long, dark fingers into her body. She arched her back and thrust her thighs toward him.
"Jesus," he said under his breath, as he became aroused in spite of himself. He lifted the covers back in a silent invitation. "Let me do that." He groaned and hoped his soul would not be damned for what he was about to do.
The morning brought him to DuBose at the bank and the mortgage on his newly acquired lands was arranged.
"Peacock, I'm especially delighted to see you today. Did I ever mention Lady Margot Stafford to you? No perhaps not, but I most certainly mentioned you to her. A true English lady in every sense of the word, and a most charming and amusing hostess. She is something of a social phenomenon, probably because Charlestonions are mad about anything English. Lady Stafford has invited me to dine this evening and I urge you to join me."
"Is there a Lord Stafford?" Nick's curiosity was piqued.
"Unfortunately not. The dear lady is a widow."
"It's most kind of you to help me enlarge my social circle, sir. I shall be honored to accompany you."
Nicholas went in DuBose's carriage and when it pulled up before the house on Wentworth Street, he saw that it was like a mansion on a small scale. It stood three full stories with screened porches on the lower level, and an open balcony on the s
econd.
Inside, Lady Margot had managed to create an intimate, warm atmosphere that was welcoming. The sitting and dining rooms had a most comfortable, lived-in appearance, where a man could relax without a servant at his elbow every time he made a move, or without the extreme elegance so often displayed in Charleston homes that encouraged only cool, stilted behavior.
Nicholas was introduced to other guests, but they receded into the background of his mind as Lady Margot advanced into the room. She was a willowy redhead with a generous mouth. Her tall figure seemed designed to show off her clothes to perfection. Nick was pleasantly surprised until she stretched out her hand and opened her mouth to speak. Then he was shocked. He knew instantly that she was no lady, and what's more, she knew that he knew. Her accent condemned her forever to the working classes of England, but Nicholas saw that the American ear made no distinction between the accents of the English.
Lady Margot and Nicholas exchanged amused glances. Her eyes played with his, asking him to be silent and promising a reward for his co-operation.
Afterwards, Nicholas only remembered that the food was good and the conversation lively, he could never recall who else he met that evening.